


Clouded Crystal

by Alienea, pleasekalemenow



Series: The Inherent Romanticism of Dragons [20]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: ...lack of self care? and caring about end of vengeance quest, Alcohol, Other, fire damage, mechs fantasy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alienea/pseuds/Alienea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasekalemenow/pseuds/pleasekalemenow
Summary: Conversations with the being you've bargained with for revenge, on the way to save your love.
Relationships: Lyfrassir Edda & Nyarlathotep, Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum
Series: The Inherent Romanticism of Dragons [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832185
Comments: 15
Kudos: 110





	Clouded Crystal

Lyfrassir’s journey to their death goes by in an odd mix of blur and crystal clarity. There are some things they can’t remember for the life of them- eating anything, how exactly they made it across the river with their horse when they’re certain the bridge went out, several days of travel that passed without note until they snapped back to themself in the middle of a town- and some things that are burned into their mind. A snake they saw slither across the road, and then its mutilated body scattered across the ground, no weapon in their hands, just so much red, and Marius looked so good in red and now he’s  _ gone _ and then suddenly washing their hands in a creek, the memory clearer than the water. Conversations with the devil in their soul. Those are almost all clear.

_ I’ve promised you revenge, but in order to make it yours, you must master the powers that I grant you. Otherwise you will just watch yourself, a puppet for me, destroying your enemy. _

Lyf sighs. “So you keep saying.”

_ Perhaps I keep saying because it keeps on being true. Of course, if you have no desire to actually control your revenge- _ Nyarlathotep reaches out, spreading influence through Knight Lyfrassir Edda, and for a brief moment enjoys the air and the day, sitting on the horse and listening to it move forward. Then she withdraws, letting Lyf’s control return.  _ If that’s how you wish to experience your revenge, just let me know. _

Lyf takes a shaky breath as they are once again the pilot of their body and not just trapped in their own head, watching things happen. “...How do I master them, then.”

_ Excellent question! I’m so glad you asked. If you don’t mind, I’ll do a quick manifestation, and then you can practice. Manifestation can be used for any number of things- supplies, weapons, bolts of fire or ice, it’s very multi-purpose. _

“I don’t suppose there are really any better options.”

_ Not really! It’s a whole new set of instincts and abilities. _ Nyarl moves to take control, but this time just of Lyf’s arm, and slowly forms a ball of ice in Lyf’s hand, making sure that they have time to note how it’s happened and how to pull on the new magic inside of them. Lyf watches the ice crystalize with interest, feeling the way the cold pricks across their skin, numbing their nerves as they feel the magic course through their body as if through a secondary nervous system. The cold subsides as the ice crumbles inside their clenched fist, and then they try to do the same, but they aren’t familiar with the new channel of power inside of them and the ice comes out more like a flame, spreading up their arm and bursting in their eyes and for a moment all they know is literally blinding pain, all too clear, unmistakable and unforgettable.

Ve steps in, taking control from Lyfrassir and shutting off the magic before going deeper, rebuilding muscle and tendon, iris and pupil, but leaving the scars behind, and then receding and giving Lyf control again, but lingering, now, in their limbs.

_ I will keep a closer eye on you, I suppose. Be ready to shut off your magic. Don’t lose concentration while casting. _

Lyf can sense a warning when they hear one, and when they look at their skin they see another- there are scars running up their arm, not unlike burns, but not quite right, either. The discoloration is cooler in tone than it should be, standing out against their dark skin. They absently wonder about their eyes.

_ You can worry about your vanity later. Focus. Perhaps not on fire. Maybe something that you need, since you haven’t refilled your waterskin- manifesting water. In an orb, cupped in your hands, I don’t care. _

Lyf bristles slightly, but. Dammit. They don’t actually remember the last time they drank anything, and their throat is apparently dry. They hold up their canteen and focus on the idea of that canteen being full, specifically of water, and they feel the magic rush through their veins, cold and invigorating, before seeping out of their fingertips and into the canteen that grows heavier in their hands. They take a cautious sip- it’s just water.

_ Very good. With practice you can control the temperature of the water as well. _ Nyarl is still lurking in Lyf’s body, just in case they lose control of their magic again, but appears to have relaxed a bit at this successful test. Lyf immediately dumps the water and channels the magic again, this time filling the canteen with hard mead and knocking it back, drinking freely. Nyarl resigns xemself to hydrating Lyf to keep them alive while they sleep.

_ What about rations, then? Since you cannot live on mead. It might be made from honey and yeast, but that does not actually make it a food. You can make anything you have ever wanted to eat. You don’t need to know what goes into it. _ Nyarl wafts scents of ham and fresh bread in front of Lyf’s nose, followed by fruits and desserts. Lyf can sense themself about to be bullied into some amount of self-care and they manifest one (1) cold ham sandwich since they have literally not felt hungry since- since.

“Happy?” They take as petulant a bite as one can take of a ham sandwich when the person you’re being pissy at has no physical form for you to glare at.

_ Yes, actually. You can’t exactly get anything done if you pass out by the side of the road, I would like to point out. _ Nyarl can sense the petulance and pissyness and makes an illusion of the same form that she appeared to them with when they finally succumbed to the GRAIL.  _ Which does include revenge. It’s hard to take revenge when you don’t have the energy to walk. _

Lyf just eats their sandwich at vir.

_ Well, if you’re going to be like that. _ Nyarl manifests a ham sandwich and starts to eat it. Lyf is slightly distracted from eating their own sandwich by the sight of the human-shaped Void consuming a ham sandwich, sitting in front of them on their horse. They are having just. The weirdest year.

_ So, do you have any intelligence on whatever is supposed to have killed your love? Or are you planning on charging in half-cocked with just eldritch power. _ Nyarl’s head tilts to the side.  _ Which would be idiotic. Start thinking past the moment, Lyfrassir. _

Lyf really doesn’t take well to being patronized. “It’s a dragon. Massive, apparently. Large hoard.”

_ And you want to… kill the dragon? That’s  _ a  _ revenge, but not necessarily the best. You could destroy its hoard, instead. Their hoard. Her hoard. His hoard. Whatever pronoun of dragon’s hoard. _

“Destroying something precious to it would certainly be. Apt.” The words are bitter on their tongue.

_ Yes, I thought so. _ Nyarl does not preen, but it is a close thing.  _ I am adept at balancing scales, after all. I could also apply a curse, make it so that the dragon in question cannot take on a new hoard. _

“Scales.” Lyf says this with just the barest trace of humor before moving on. “That would be excellent, I think.”

_ Then I shall. I don’t think we’ll have time to get you to start with curses, so it will be me. _ Nyarl finishes the ham sandwich.  _ Continue the magic practice, for now. So you can do something. _

The magic practice itself blurs as well, leaving them more practiced but no more grounded. They mess up again, they know that, because each time they do they absently register more marks that appear on their skin- Lichtenberg lines, white splashes from acid, black swirling marks that they can only guess at the origins of but refuse to give any thought to. None of them last. Not like the first marks- those stay. They don’t clock the first few times they see their reflection, but they remember one day glancing down into a puzzle and not feeling any surprise at the sight of themself with scars around their eyes and along their upper cheekbones where cool tongues of flame kissed their skin. Their eyes, at least, are the same, gold and piercing, although the circles under them grow closer to the Void within them every time they take themself in. 

Near the end of their journey, they’re staring at the stars and wondering whether they’ll go up to join them, after...everything, when the devil in their soul speaks up unexpectedly.

_ A bit dreary, aren’t you? Little to do about that, since brain manipulation is so tricky, but maybe you’ll do better if you actually sleep. _ And Nyarlathotep pulls a violin out of the sky, made of stars and void, and starts to play, a mildly fast tune, and looks down at Lyf, who looks up at cer in mild bewilderment.

“You fiddle?”

_ Oh, passably. It’s expected. I can also play the piano quite well. Other instruments get a bit more variable, unless it’s for a deal. _

“What sort of deals do you make with instruments?”

_ Never heard the tale? _ Nyarl riffs on Devil Went Down to Georgia for a bit.  _ In any case. Bands that need someone to fill in. People that want to learn, and convince themselves that I’m the best option. Contests of skill are actually quite rare, and I generally lose them so that one day, when I do want to win one, they’ll be surprised. _

“Dastardly of you.” They don’t say this with any malice.

_ Oh, I know. Still. What do people expect? I’m fairly upfront in not playing fair. _ The violin screeches, for a second.  _ Of course, that’s also not quite true. People just get surprised when they follow the exact wording of a deal and then I do the same. I’m supposed to follow the spirit of what they meant even when they try to cheat me, though. _ Nyarl shrugs.  _ It’s not my problem, if they don’t like the tables turning. What do they expect? _

Lyf can follow the logic there, but they don’t entirely know if they buy it. They also don’t know what a devil would stand to gain from deceiving them when ve already has them in a deal. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

_ Oh, good. I am trying to make sense. _ Nyarl is still fiddling, having transitioned into lullabies.  _ Feel free to tell me if I’m not. I’ll let you know, if I need to charge for answers, instead of answering and then charging you. _

“Well, I certainly appreciate that.” They close their eyes for a moment and just listen, trying and failing not to ponder the state of their soul. At least the devil’s honest.

_ You are aware that you haven’t made a deal regarding your soul, yes? Sure, you’re getting my help, but I did not in fact specify your soul as the cost. _ Nyarl sighs.  _ Despite all I’m doing, here. A connection does not ownership make. _

Lyf squints at the stars. “What are you, exactly?”

_ Huh. Philosophical. _ Nyarl plays, for a minute, without answering.  _ I am… a tool that people pick up when they want its help, and then blame for the consequences, when I twist in their hands. I am a being with enough power to destroy this planet, and I am instead here, fiddling in the night. I am… to you, someone who will help you. _

Lyf blinks. They cannot stop themself from blurting, “Are you, like, okay?”

_ Oh, so when you ask a philosophical question you don’t want a philosophical answer. Next time I’ll just say an outer god and leave it at that. _ Nyarl keeps on playing, shifting to songs from the Tempest.

“I didn’t say I was dissatisfied with the answer you gave.” Lyf purses their lips. Ze didn’t answer the question, but that’s an answer in and of itself. “Personally, I find making music to be a much better use of time than destruction. Once you create something you can always destroy it later. Once something is destroyed it’s just gone.” Lyf tries to remember Marius’s smile, but the memory is faded, and they can only recall the way it made them feel.

_ … Here. Have a boost, free, on me. _ Nyarl reaches into Lyf’s mind, and refreshes the memory, reinforces it so that it won’t fade again.  _ I do find music to be a worthwhile pastime. When I’m not being summoned. _ There’s a sense of a cheeky grin, from the void.  _ I’ve been ignoring a fair amount of summons, hanging around you. I can play more music, if you like it. _

Lyf just watches the Void for a moment, and feels almost guilty about leaving her after they get what they want- they know what it is to be used, cast aside. “...I like it. I used to play the cello.”

_ Well, if you want, I can make a cello. Give you a break from practicing. _ Nyarl pauses in her playing.  _ That’s a thing that humans need, I believe? Breaks, while they’re learning? _

“I wouldn’t know.” Lyf huffs humorlessly. Their training was relentless. “I wouldn’t say no to playing some music. Although I couldn’t beat you even if you weren’t trying to win, at this point. Haven’t played in years.”

_ Well, it doesn’t have much to do with revenge, but if you promise to play with me for as long as I work with getting you back up to speed, I can re-teach you cello. _

“I assume you’re making this deal in good faith and I won’t have to play nonstop for the rest of the journey.”

_ Correct. I was thinking, I spend- oh, let’s call the example ten hours- I spend ten hours getting you back up to speed, and later, I can cash in up to ten hours of playing with you. Not all at once, especially as you probably don’t have the finger calluses anymore. But like that. _

“That sounds fair enough.” They aren’t about to complain. They didn’t think they’d ever get to play music again. It hits them with a bitter pang that Marius never got to hear them play- perhaps they could perform a dirge, after avenging him. They don’t deserve to do anything to grieve him until they do that, frankly. There’s a part of them that feels bad even doing this, taking this moment to enjoy…whatever this is. “Deal.”

_ Deal. Not tonight, though. Go to sleep, Lyfrassir. Revenge is best served well-rested so that you can properly savor it. _

Sleep has always been elusive for Lyf, but with the Void standing guard they feel safer than they would expect to. It doesn’t take them too long to comply. The song that haunts their dreams isn’t the one they’ve heard since childhood; it’s a haunting melody, played by a distant violin, and they can see the back of a familiar head of curls, robed in their clothes, hand raised with a bow, but not the kind of bow they taught him to use- a violin bow, and he’s the one playing for them, and they know it isn’t real, a combination of their own yearning and the bizarre experience of the Void lulling them to sleep, but they find a cello in their own hands and make music with their lost love through the infinite night.


End file.
